


The Kiss: An AU

by blakefancier



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roj's mother takes him to the opera to see the famous castrato Kerr Avon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kiss: An AU

There was something to be said for parental coercion, and none of it good. But perhaps that was his fault. Roj supposed that he should have married Rose when he had the chance; he wasn't getting any younger. People were beginning to talk, but fortunately, there were much more interesting scandals than his bachelorhood. Oh, Rose was nice enough; pretty, polite, and quite uninteresting. She was everything a mother could want a son to marry, and everything Roj hated.

He wanted more than just a woman who would bear his children and plan his social calendar. He wanted a partner: someone with whom to argue, a person who wanted to explore the world with him. A person with whom to discuss matters of importance; such as the state of the lower classes, the rebellion brewing in the colonies, the hints of unrest in France. These were what excited him-- and any woman he married had to share that same passion. But he had yet to find a woman (or even a man) of such intelligence-- perhaps he was looking in the wrong place?

Roj shifted tiredly and slipped a finger under his wig to scratch at a particularly itchy spot... only to have his hand slapped.

"Leave it alone." His mother, Lady Blake, pursed her lips and glared at him.

He sighed and straightened. "It itches."

"Well, if you would only--"

"No, Mother. I am not going to shave my head." Roj took her arm and led her out to the waiting carriage. "It's enough that I go to these silly functions with you."

"The opera is *not* silly, Roj. 'Orfeo ed Euridice' is lauded as one of the best operas of the season. Do you really want my friends to think I brought up an ill-mannered, uncultured young man."

Roj bit back a sigh. "No, Mother."

*****

The first chance he had, Roj left his mother in the capable hands of her friends and slipped up to their box at the Covent Garden. He slumped in his chair, his finger going to his mouth to be nibbled and sucked, and glared at the stage (not at all brooding).

His mind had been on revolution-- of course-- when the curtain to his box was pulled open, then quickly shut. Roj straightened and opened his mouth to bellow at the young man, when the boy turned. "Beautiful" was the first thing that came to Roj's mind, but at further glance, that wasn't quite right. The boy's skin was pale, and he had glossy brown hair and eyes that would make a woman weep... but his nose was too large.

Roj opened his mouth and tried again, "This is my box."

The young man raised an eyebrow and gave Roj an imperious look. "I apologize."

He had never heard a more false apology in his whole life, or one quite as sweet. The boy had a soft, musical voice, which was unhindered by his thick accent. Roj stood and lifted his chin. "What are you doing here?"

"I am one of the singers." The boy gestured to the stage and grinned.

"Then why aren't you backstage?"

The boy's grin widened. "It's boring. Why are you here? Come to stare at the great castrato Kerr?"

"No!" Roj took a deep breath. There was something about this boy that made his ire rise. "I enjoy the opera."

When the boy laughed, it sounded like bells. "It is your duty as a gentleman, you mean. Did your wife force you to come?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I don't have a wife."

"Ah!" The boy's eyes widened in mock-surprise, then narrowed. It made Blake very nervous.

The boy came closer and Roj found himself retreating.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the boy said, amused.

Roj stilled and took a few steps forward himself. "You couldn't even if you wanted to."

"There are many ways to hurt a man. Shall I show you one?"

Before Roj could respond, the boy flung himself against him, wrapped his arms around Roj's neck and kissed him soundly... slowly. Roj gasped at first, too shocked to move. Then he slid his hand down to the boy's hips, to push him away, of course. But instead he closed his fingers around the soft velvet of the young man's breeches and drew him closer. He leaned into the slight body, his mouth opened to a warm, wet tongue, and without meaning to he made a soft 'oh' of pleasure. Then the boy pulled away from him and smiled.

That smile snapped Roj from his reverie. He took a step back and looked around wildly.

"Don't worry," the boy said softly. "No one can see us up here."

"Why..." Roj swallowed hard. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to. Because I didn't think you would object."

"You smug bastard!"

"Don't forget arrogant." The boy grinned. "Lady Tarrant is giving a party for Signor Avon. I'll be there. Will you?"

"I... Yes."

"Good." The boy glanced at the stage. "I must go."

As the boy headed for the exit, Roj found himself reluctant to let him leave. "Wait."

The boy paused and raised an eyebrow again.

"How can a kiss hurt a man?"

"You'll see." And with one last enigmatic grin, the boy left.

As Roj sat back in his seat and waited for his mother to appear, he realized he did not know the boy's name.

*****

Roj was distracted and uneasy during the opera. So much so, that his mother kept glancing his way. But he could not stop thinking about that boy and the kiss. Erotic and consuming, it was like no other kiss he had received.

It made him wonder. It made him fear.

*****

He clutched a glass of wine in one hand and tried to surreptitiously glance around the room while trying to pretend to look interested in young Del's comments on the state of government. Just when Roj was about to tell Del that he was an idiot and that he didn't know what he was talking about, he spied the figure of his boy speaking with Lady Tarrant. He thrust the still full glass of wine into Del's hands, murmured an apology, and made his way across the room.

Roj waited until there was a pause in the conversation and sidled up to the two people.

Lady Tarrant smiled, delighted, and offered her hand to him. "Oh, Roj. It is nice to see you here. I had hoped you would come."

Roj kissed her hand and smiled his most charming smile. "I would never pass up a chance to see you, Lady Tarrant.

She laughed and blushed-- a talent she had perfected years ago. "You are just like your father, Roj. Always a kind word for an old woman. Oh, but where are my manners! Roj Blake, this is the guest of honour, Kerr Avon."

Roj, who had just extended his hand, froze. "K-Kerr Avon? The castrato?"

Kerr smiled, wryly. "Yes. It is nice to meet you, Signor Blake."

He tried to find something to say and finally blurted, "You're young."

"Not much younger than you are." Kerr shrugged, then glanced at Roj's hand. He did not seem surprised when Roj pulled it away without touching him. "Did you enjoy the performance?"

"I... Yes, it was... nice." Roj tried not to wince at the fatuousness of his words, but he found that he was quite beside himself.

"Nice?" Kerr said the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. "Perhaps the music wasn't to your taste? Perhaps you enjoy something less... complicated."

Roj looked away for a moment to gather his wits, then said softly. "Perhaps I do."

Then in the coldest voice Roj had ever heard, Kerr replied, "Your loss."

After that conversation, Roj found it difficult to breathe and fled to the garden for air.

*****

Time passed, but he found that he could not go back into the house. He would rather be miserable and cold than face those eyes and that voice. He buried his face in his hands and groaned.

"Realizing the error of your ways?"

Roj looked up, took a step back and almost fell over into a rosebush.

"Don't worry, it isn't catching."

"No, that isn't... I wasn't... Why are you here? To make a fool of me again?"

Kerr sneered. "*I* didn't make a fool of you. You made a fool of yourself."

Roj opened and closed his mouth a few times, then shook his head. It was true, of course it was true, but... "Why didn't you tell me?"

Kerr looked up at the sky and for the longest time did not answer. Then he stared into Roj's eyes. "Because I wanted to kiss you and I knew that if I told you what I was, you would not let me."

There was pain in those eyes. Pain that was not echoed in his voice or the set of his mouth, or his stance, but pain nonetheless. Roj found himself taking a step forward, grabbing those slender shoulder and-- and before he could bring Kerr to him, the boy pulled away. Roj let out a soft gasp of disappointment.

Kerr straightened and the look he gave was so savage, Roj wondered if he had imagined the pain. "I will not. Not again."

He blinked at Kerr, surprised. "But... why?"

"You wanted to know how a kiss could hurt a man. It's not the kiss that hurts. It's the promise a kiss offers. It's the denial of that promise."

Roj shook his head. "I don't... I don't understand."

"I know. And that's why I will not." Kerr smiled at him sadly.

"When I do understand?"

"I'll be gone."

"I learn quickly."

"I'm cold." Kerr plucked a rose, kissed it, then handed to Roj before returning to the party.

When his mother found him later, Roj was still brushing his lips with its petals.


End file.
